The Song of the Rotor-Tiller
Today we harvest broken bits of glass
Fragments of old toys, bit of aluminum
A Sylvania flash cube still intact
From a picture taken decades ago
Tag: Poetry
What Maid is This
This, this is the blessed woman
From whom God would take the nature of man
Hail, hail maid full of grace
Your answer will determine mankind’s fate
Paying the Electric Bill to a Tattooed Arm
Through the glass one can see a slender arm
And a shift in the light shows it to be
All splotchy in decaying reds, greens, and blues
Seemingly covered in a tropical blight
The window slides open to a beautiful smile…
A Rainbow in The Garden
There’s a rainbow blooming in the garden
An array of colors adorning the sides of the path
As petals unfurl and release their sweet perfume
While melodies are swapped at the bird bath
When the Ambulance Arrived
So there you were with a tube in your arm
And a crossword puzzle and pen in your hands
And a lovely view of a sunlit roof
With windblown debris whipping between the vents
The BeeGees, Duck Dynasty, and Jesus
Garage-sale-blocked again, the one-lane road Hosts cars on both sides, and oxygened-men Defiantly aluminum-caning the middle In their Quixotic quest for eternal youth
Read MoreAssorted Broken Saints
After doing some time in this fallen world
We all are broken, and missing a few of our parts
Having lost some hopes and strengths along the way
But we keep chooglin’ along, making it work
Palm Sunday without Air-Raid Warnings
Palm Sunday is easy for the rest of us
A procession with palms from the parking lot
Praising God through an asphalt Jerusalem
A Subaru on His right hand, a Dodge on His left
To Ask to be Exempt Would be Unreasonable
We all have lists of absent friends Who were with us one week and Covid the next With unfinished stories and little jokes We meant to tell each other the next time we met
Read MoreSpring, Spring, Spring
Spring, it won’t be long before the hills are covered in green
Spring, I want to roll in all the scents that flowers bring
We All Dream of Our Own Library Someday
We all dream of our own library someday
Shelf after shelf of finely bound editions
An oak-paneled room with a stone fireplace
And French windows that open to the sea
Select All Images with Traffic Lights
When the ink on his Gospel had barely dried
Saint Matthew was interrupted by angelic sights
And then to him a Voice from Heaven cried:
“Select all images with traffic lights!”
I Grew Up In Mayberry
I passed two men who were building a fence
With hands and tools and strength and uncommon sense…
But is it True? Modern Mayhem & More
Let’s unpack the cliches and hyperbole
The nuclear option and we’ve got this
What we know now we have our options frontline
Off the table Armageddon option
But a Worm
Who am I to thee draw nigh?
and who am I that thou wouldst die?
Guilt
What have mine hands wrought? Light away and darkness brought? Am I become mad? Alack, mine hands are red clad?
Read MoreWho Betrayed Anne Frank?
A spokesman for the F.B.I. /
Notes that Jewish hostages were taken…
Butch and Sundance: The Latest Remake
Well, now, Butch and Sundance (I’ll tell you no lies) /
Stop the U.P. right in its trackages…
A Street Called Parallel
When I was a girl, in small-town America, /
There was a street called Parallel, /
Where we Protestants ran alongside the /
Catholics – an historical microcosm of /
Our ancestral nations.
Heavenly Hosts
Angels of God, oh glorious host /
Protect those who need you most /
Guide and teach us ever this day /
And keep all of our temptations at bay.
LogoSophia Magazine 